


Happy Birthday

by dykejonze



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, M/M, Mention of Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:05:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykejonze/pseuds/dykejonze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What’s the point in measuring how many years you’ve lived when any day you might die? He tells himself this and he tells himself that he doesn’t care, the way he tells himself he doesn’t care about a lot of things, and he tells himself he doesn’t know today was Erwin’s birthday even though he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday

The stench of death is everywhere, and it always has been. Lingering in the dark and dirty streets of the Underground, stuffed inside of the towering and all-encompassing walls, staining every inch of land on the other side. Levi has known nothing else in his life and he never will. Thirty-something years of it, and it crosses his mind only for a moment that he can’t remember the exact number anymore, that he’d stopped counting years ago. What’s the point in measuring how many years you’ve lived when any day you might die? He tells himself this and he tells himself that he doesn’t care, the way he tells himself he doesn’t care about a lot of things, and he tells himself he doesn’t know today was Erwin’s birthday even though he does. 

 

He watches the gentle rise and fall of Erwin’s chest, listens to heavy breath escaping from lips slightly parted, and imagines his commander’s body cold and hard and still. Lifeless. He tries to imagine a world without Erwin Smith without feeling the wind being knocked out of him, without his heart twisting and throbbing and breaking, and he tells himself he doesn’t care. Birthdays mean nothing in this world they live in, and they meant nothing in the Underground, because what  _ is  _ the point in measuring the years you’ve lived when any second you might die? 

 

Once, so long ago it might as well have been another lifetime, in a little house he still sees in his dreams at night, a hand even smaller than his own thrust a canister of expensive tea leaves out to him and it was with a trembling hand he snatched them from her, with fear poorly hidden behind his narrowed eyes that he asked her how she got them, knowing full well that she’d stolen them for him, but she only smiled at him. He could never really be angry at her, Isabel, the strange girl who had tumbled uninvited into his and Farlan’s life, even when he wanted to be. She all but shouted  _ Happy birthday _ at him and he wanted to know how she’d found out it was his birthday at all when he forgot it himself. He wanted to tell her to put the damn thing back where she’d found it, he wanted to tell her to stay the fuck out of trouble for once because he was sick and tired of chasing after her like a goddamn babysitter, but her face was hopeful when she asked him,  _ Do you like it, Big Bro?  _ So he kept it and when the tea was gone he kept the little canister, and when she was gone it was the only thing he had left. Someday he’ll be gone too, and the gift will be thrown away, because it meant nothing to anyone but him. 

 

His eyes are adjusting to the dark, and he can see the small patch of blonde stubble Erwin missed shaving earlier and the bruising on his strong, bare body from his gear, and imagines him asleep in a different bed, in a different place. In a different world. He tries to imagine a world where someone could say Happy Birthday to Erwin Smith and it could mean anything at all because he’d have another birthday in a year, and another after that, and another. Levi tries to imagine a world where he could give something to Erwin, where he had anything to give at all, but he has nothing and he never will, and in another world in another bed Erwin would be with someone who wasn’t him. Levi tells himself he doesn’t care, because it’s the only thing he can do. 

 

In a few more sleepless hours he’ll dress, creep quietly from the room before Erwin or anyone else is awake, and pretend he hadn’t spent the better part of the night lying next to his commander with six inches of lonely space between them. He’ll pretend Erwin’s cock was never inside of him and he’ll pretend he didn’t shout Erwin’s name into the pillow as he came and maybe nobody will believe him but he’ll pretend as long as Erwin does. He’ll train and he’ll fight and he’ll kill. He’ll be every bit the weapon Erwin needs him to be, because he’s a better weapon than a lover anyway, and he’ll tell himself he doesn’t care until he means it. It won’t be Erwin’s birthday anymore, and it won’t be for another year-- if he makes it through another year. His chest rises again. Falls. 

  
Levi sits up, running a hand over his face. He doesn’t know how old Erwin is, and he wonders if Erwin knows himself, or if he’s given up counting too. 

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this instead of the mammoth of a fic im working on where levi is a phone sex operator and erwin is a pervy client sorry.


End file.
